Derek is doing one of two things.
He’s either watching porn to get off, or he’s talking to a girl.
Before our separation, adrenaline would have kicked into gear and I would have gravitated toward the bathroom door, hovering outside it, listening intently. But I just ignore it now. It doesn’t consume me like it used to. I think I want to know he’s talking to a girl so that it gives me the final push to get out of this cycle.
“Where the fuck is the toilet paper?” he suddenly growls, whipping the door open. “Ivy!”
“Yeah,” I mutter. Here we go.
“Why can’t you put the fucking toilet paper in the fucking bathroom where it belongs?”
“It’s in the closet outside the bathroom.”
He appears at my side, pissed. “Yeah, that’s not my fucking question, Ivy. Why isn’t it in the bathroom?”
“It’s literally a foot outside the bathroom.”
“I don’t know if you’re fucking deaf or you’re just trying to piss me off, but you’re still not answering the fucking question.”
I stare at him, feeling my pulse quicken with anger. He’s such an asshole.
“Derek,” I say slowly, “the cupboard inside the bathroom is tiny, and I usually put an extra roll in there –”
“Why isn’t there an extra one in there now?”
“Because I didn’t realize I needed to put another one in. When you’re finished with the roll, you throw the cardboard bit back into the cupboard, which I don’t understand –”
“So, it’s my fault?”
I grit my teeth and return my focus on the lunch I’m making for the both of us. “If you see that we’re down a toilet roll, why don’t you make it your job to make sure we have plenty of them inside the bathroom, Derek? Nothing stops you from helping out.”
He mutters how fucking stupid that is and stalks off. I hear the closet door rip open. He’s angry and slamming around. I hear the bag of toilet paper get thrown into the bathroom. My heart jumps at the sudden loud sound. Anxiety is already through the roof.
“There, they’re inside the fucking bathroom where they belong!” He rants. “How’s that for helping?”
I don’t respond.
I finish lunch and disappear inside the bathroom. He literally threw the entire eighteen roll bag on the ground and left it. I hear him stomp around. I sit down on the edge of the tub and run my hands through my hair, waiting for him to leave. I don’t want to even look at him.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I check my messages. I reread my chat with Aidan, feeling my heart tighten in my chest.
My fingers begin moving. I type out Good Morning, and then my finger hovers over the send button. I feel that same panic from before in my chest mixed with adrenaline, and then I delete it.
I put the phone down, get ready for work, and leave for the day.
Nine
Aidan
I’ve asked Ivy what she’s up to, and she hasn’t answered. It’s bad – really fucking bad –that I’m already feeling withdrawal from not hearing from her.
This is going to be a long afternoon.
“I’m curious to know about your stance on capitalism in North America, Mr West, and is it something you still stand behind in light of recent economic strains on the everyday Mom and Pop shop?” The woman asking me this has been giving me fuck-me eyes ever since she entered my office fifteen minutes ago. She speaks in this deep, breathless tone, and she angles her head like she wants me to stare at her bare neck, or the long black hair she’s gathered to the other side of her.
I blink slowly, distracted.
Not distracted by her throaty words.
Or her hair.
Or her fuck-me eyes.
I’m distracted by how fucking annoying all of it is combined.
I glower at my personal assistant Fran, who is standing by the door of the office, looking chuffed with herself. It is rare I allow interviews. I have told her on many occasions to pick the best of the best. If this is her idea of the cream of the crop, I’d rather just remain known as the Asshole of the East.
Fran senses my annoyance and gestures with her head for me to answer the woman.
“Well, Jolene,” I begin.
“Janet,” she corrects.
I blink again. “I stood for what capitalism used to be.”
Before I can continue, she replies, “Is it too broken now?”
“No,” I reply. “It’s actually working too good, and we’re actually worse off because of it. With the excess materialism and market failure –”
“I don’t follow.”
I pause. If she shut the fuck up, I might actually be able to explain. I glance again at Fran, and Fran is now shooting me the thumbs up.
“There’s a trend, if you’ll notice,” I try again. “A cycle of boom and bust –”
“A cycle of boom and bust,” she cuts in, writing that down. “Wow. That’s insightful. Would you consider the boom-and-bust cycle a reflection of your personal life as well, Mr West?”
My lips twitch.
Ah, so that’s the real reason she’s here. She wants to know who I’m fucking. It’s really fucking bizarre what people are interested in. My cock seems to be a major source of fascination to the public.
I look back at Fran now, and she’s frowning at a clipboard in front of her. I’m pretty sure she’s looking at the list of questions Jolene was supposed to ask me and hasn’t.
“I thought you guys were over all of that,” I muse, smirking now. “It’s been a while since I’ve been hounded by you idiots.”
“It’s been a while since you’ve showed your face, Mr West,” she replies, confidently. She leans in closer, hoping the view of her tits in that too tight of a top will entice me to answer her. “Don’t men like you love the limelight? You sold all your assets in Montreal. Your apartment went for a whopping 37 million dollars, and now you’re here of all places, playing it safe.”
“Maybe
